


Bound

by Blondjjong



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Dom/sub, M/M, Rope Bondage, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:42:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13746024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blondjjong/pseuds/Blondjjong
Summary: Wrapped up in rope Jongin settles into subspace.





	Bound

**Author's Note:**

> Re-post from a previous account after editing.
> 
> Note; Hyung is used as title for their scenes (as they are same-age friends and dont use the honorific between them in day to day)

The ropes press and pull at Jongin’s skin in the most pleasing of ways. His back is arched tight, his arms pulled behind him and wrapped securely in smooth red rope. The position puts on full display the months of work Jongin had been putting into his body, exposes him completely and renders him unable to hide. It's not the position that has Jongin affected though, neither is it the rope decorating his skin, nor the stark nudity he’d been stripped to. What has Jongin’s cock hard and heavy, his body a light tremor, and his emotions a whirl inside of him, is Taemin.

Taemin is stood across the room from Jongin, his body lean despite being built, slender and fit, yet significantly smaller in frame than the man on the floor. Leather is wrapped around his slim legs, Taemin’s pants working to contain his cock, bulged at the front despite not even being hard yet. His presence is strong and authoritative, the same way Jongin has seen him at work when managing those under him on a project. The hard steady gaze Taemin has on him is more of a press, more of a touch, a tease, a bind, than the ropes could ever be.

Dark eyes watch every draw of breath, every shift of Jongin’s body, drinking in the way Jongin reacts as his mind struggles, sinking deeper, and deeper into his thoughts, into his emotions. Jongin craves Taemin, craves his touch: To have the roughened pads of Taemin’s fingers on his heated skin in place of the rope, pushing him down and forwards, wrapped around his wrists and up his arms. To have Taemin tracing around his throat and down his chest, rather than the red fibers that are woven and tight, drawn up under the plump firm swell of Jongin’s ass, lifting and parting his cheeks. Jongin wants it to be Taemin himself pushing, and shifting, pressing, and commanding his body in whatever ways pleased the older most.

But that’s exactly what Taemin has done: He’s wrapped Jongin up exactly as he wants him, leaving him lain on the carpet of his living room floor, watching him, studying him with heavy gaze as if Jongin really was the piece of art Taemin so often tells him he is. Taemin knows all too well the effect this has on Jongin. He understands the way the anticipation gets inside of him, up under Jongin’s skin, hazing his mind. Taemin’s patience seems endless as with near expressionless, undivided attention he watches the way Jongin sinks himself deeper and deeper into his own headspace.

Jongin’s abdomen clenches, the muscles fluttering. His wrists twist in his binds, his shoulders thick and tense. His biceps built and bulged with the tension that the action causes, veins showing thick on his forearms. Jongin’s cock is hard, swollen and leaking in a slow, clear drip onto the floor under him. It jerks slightly at the thought of Taemin, at the sight of him impassive as he watches.

Jongin’s chest heaves, the rope criss-crossed over his skin tightening and relaxing with every breath drawn, eyes unfocused, lost in his own mind. His head settles on the floor, temple pressed to the carpet, rolling gently, black hair spilling in a fan over his vision. Slowly his body goes lax against his restraints, settling into the position, no longer resisting the embarrassment laced emotions brought on by the blatant exposure Taemin has tied him into.

“Hyung.” Jongin’s voice is soft, near cracking from disuse as it breaks through the tense silence of the room. “Hyung, please.” It’s almost a murmur with the depth of Jongin’s voice and he near wonders if Taemin has heard him at all. Then there's movement, the sound of footsteps as Taemin approaches. The room suddenly comes into focus once again as Taemin carts fingers through Jongin’s hair, pushing Jongin’s fringe back and out of his eyes. The touch pulls a desperate sound from Jongin that has Taemin hushing him gently.

“You’re fine.” Taemin’s tone is gentle, eyes fond as Jongin instinctively nuzzles into his palm, a contrast to the smirk quirking of the corner of Taemin’s lips. “Hyung’s here.”


End file.
